


Shrimp Cocktail

by vanillafluffy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Is a Good Bro, F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, pre-serum steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is 18, looks 14, and his best friend, who claims to have surrendered his virginity in 1934, is determined to relieve him of that embarrassing condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shrimp Cocktail

"We gotta get you laid, Stevie. It ain't natural, being a virgin at your age."

Steve is the color of a radish, which makes him look healthier than his usual pallor. "Geez, Buck--just because you're doing every chorus girl on Broadway doesn't mean I have to follow your example."

"I like dancers. They can keep up with me." He wiggles his eyebrows roguishly, in case his meaning isn't clear enough. "The college girls are fun to talk to, but most of them won't put out." He sighs. "We gotta find you the right girl. The trouble isn't them, though--it's you."

"Why, because I haven't...?"

"Face it, kiddo, you're not exactly Errol Flynn. I gotta figure out how to sell shrimp cocktail to a gal who's used to prime rib."

"Thanks."

"That's what friends are for."

A few days pass, and Steve starts to hope Bucky has forgotten the conversation, because the idea of being naked with a girl makes him wheeze. 

No such luck. Bucky dances into their apartment grinning like a fool and says, "Stevie, you're in luck."

"Oh?" he says warily. "Why's that?"

"I've got a real cute girl lined up for you. She's looking forward to making your acquaintance."

Oh Lord. "What have you told her about me?"

"Don't worry about that. Put this on, let's see how it fits." He passes Steve a blue and white jacket, shiny in the light of the 40-watt bulb overhead. 

Steve shrugs it on and sneezes. 

"Yeah, that works. Looks good on you, punk. Yeah, she's gonna eat you up. "

"That's what I'm afraid of," he mutters, sniffling. 

"Ok, so--your name, for purposes of this assignation, is Steve Miller."

"Why do I need a fake name?"

"Because this Miller guy has already laid the groundwork, pardon the pun." Bucky flourishes a two week-old newspaper clipping about a jockey, one Steven Miller, who was was injured by a fall at Aquaduct. Steve is fairly sure jockeys don't walk around in fancy silk jackets in real life, but Bucky does like embellishments. 

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Steve, trust me, it's perfect. It explains why you're so little, it explains all those bruises, and since you're recovering from your terrible, nearly tragic accident, it'll explain why you're gonna lie back and let her do all the work. And, because I am a wonderful friend, I'm even gonna cover the tab for the hotel room. Just don't stay past midnight or they'll charge extra."

"Swell." There's no way that Bucky is going to let go of this idea. It's crazy, but Steve figures he may as well go along with it. Who knows if he'll get another chance? His health problems being what they are, he could keel over any time...and he _is_ curious. 

Thelma, the dancer, is about two inches shorter than Steve, with marcelled waves in her dark hair and a husky laugh. Steve likes her, but he's pretty sure she wouldn't be interested if she knew the down-on-his-luck jockey is really a freelance sign painter. She's very solicitous--as Bucky predicted, she's happy to be the one in the saddle. 

For a wonder, he doesn't have an asthma attack, doesn't ralph up his dinner from nerves, and after a couple nips of something minty from a flask she has, he relaxes and really enjoys it. He's not sure what he expected, but Thelma is making happy noises, he feels great, and when it's over, she kisses him, smiling. "I didn't wear you out, did I?"

"That was fantastic, Thelma. Thank you."

"Sure, any time." She hops out of bed and checks her lipstick in the mirror over the dresser. She gathers up her clothes, getting dressed and looking cheerful as she rolls on her stockings. 

"Let me know if you get a ride on Seabiscuit, huh?" she says on her way out the door, but she's playful, not sarcastic. 

When Steve exits the hotel at 11:43 pm, Bucky is leaning against a light pole across the street. 

"Hey, how was it?"

"Wow."

"That's what Thelma said. She was all smiles when she came out. Nice going."

Steve hands the jacket back to Bucky as they head home. He can't stand to wear it another minute. His eyes are scratchy and he keeps having to blow his nose. 

"I think you missed your calling," Bucky says as the subway returns them to Brooklyn. "Think of all the dames you could get if you really were a jockey! Too bad you're allergic to horses."

..


End file.
